


Rest Easy

by orphan_account



Series: Lord of the Rings [2]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Aragorn Angst, Aragorn is sick, Aragorn thinks lowly of himself, Crying, Elrond is a proud father, Elrond is caring, Elvish, Emetophobia, Fainting, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Aragorn, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Legolas is worried, Men Crying, Parent Elrond, Platonic Relationships, Protective Elrond, Protective Legolas Greenleaf, Sickfic, Weakness, sick aragorn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 14:42:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20360233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Aragorn is sick, Legolas is worried, Elrond deserves the award for best dad, and Aragorn feels extremely ashamed about it all.AKA: Right before the fellowship's perilous journey, Aragorn falls ill in Rivendell.





	Rest Easy

**Author's Note:**

> Hello. It is currently almost 4am, and I have no idea why I wrote this. This is my first lotr fanfic, I guess, so please enjoy my jumbled catastrophe of a fic!
> 
> I'm keeping Cassia and Sio's headcanon that Elrond took Aragorn in as a son, and Legolas and Aragorn were friends before the Fellowship.
> 
> Elvish translations: 
> 
> Ada = 'father'  
Mellon nîn = 'my friend'  
Ion nîn = 'my son'  
Hannon le = 'thank you'

Aragorn felt hot. Not like the way the summer sun beats down on you, but almost as if something terrible was coiling inside of him and covering every inch of his body, his skin burning against the crisp air, overheating him as if he had been running for miles. He felt as if he could collapse from exhaustion, but since their arrival in Rivendell, he had done nothing to overexert himself. 

To be completely honest, the man had been feeling rather off for a few days now. He dismissed it as low energy, aftershock of the events him and the hobbits had encountered, perhaps something he had eaten. But after a few days, the lingering feeling got worse and worse, and he finally could not ignore it or push it to the side.

He brought a hand to his face and looked around the gardens to see if anyone was nearby. Once he was sure that the coast was clear, he felt himself slump, leaning into a pillar and sighing loudly. 

“Dear god,  _ not  _ now…” he groaned to himself. They were expected to embark on their perilous journey very soon, if not tomorrow or the day after. He could  _ not _ be sick. Elves don’t get--

\--of course. He wasn’t  _ really _ an elf, despite living amongst them for the majority of his life. He was merely ‘looked after’ by Elrond. He was not an elf. He was a human. The barrier that he always felt tore him apart from him and his foster family.

He felt his head start to throb slightly, worsening with every pulse. He let his head, now sleek with sweat, lay against the pillar, letting the cool stone relieve him slightly as he tried to regain his composure. 

_ Surely everyone must be looking for me. I must carry on and attend tonight’s gathering. My ailment is merely a small problem of which I can overcome with ease. I shall be fine.  _

He knew he was partially lying to himself, although he mustered up all of his willpower to try and overcome his sudden lack of energy. He lifted his head, but strangely enough, could not will his body to stand up straight and leave the support of the pillar. 

He could hear his own breathing now, shallow and shaky as he finally gave in and rested his head against the pillar once more.

_ I am not sick. I am fine. I will not let such a thing as this-- _

“Aragorn?” 

The man spun around quickly to come face to face with Legolas, the sleek elf’s face showing pure concern. Although they were embarking on this journey together, he had known the wood elf since youth, as he would venture to Rivendell often to visit Elrond. 

He was about to reply, but realized much too late that spinning around so quickly was not the best idea, as his nausea greatly increased and a bout of dizziness suddenly overtook him.

Breathing deeply, he tried not to meet the eyes of the elf. 

“Ah, Legolas, mellon nîn. Excited for the journey?” he asked, hoping to convince his pointy-eared friend that all was well with him. 

“Yes, I’m sure it shall be told to youngsters for generations to come.” he said quizzically, an eyebrow raised, “Is all well with you, Aragorn?”

Growing more and more nervous that he would be found out, the young man tried to reply with something witty or lively as to show how well he was, but all he could focus on was how the room was slightly spinning.

“A-all is well, dear friend.” he managed to spit out, somehow holding himself up despite the exhaustion he felt. The two initiated some banter, although Aragorn found himself not paying attention to the conversation. Instead, he was distracted by his throbbing headache. 

The elf stopped his conversation abruptly. “Are you sure you are well?”

“I--of course, mellon nîn. All...all is well…” he said hesitantly. The elf stared the man down for a few seconds, before taking a step closer. 

“You’re ill.” he confirmed. Aragorn felt shame rise within him. 

“I am not, I--I can assure you, Legol--”

“Do not lie to me, Aragorn. I can sense a great unease in you.” the elf interrupted, inching closer to the man. 

“I must be tired...I--I am well.” Aragorn tried to say, but as if he felt badly enough, he felt the slight nausea that was coiling in his stomach start to increase, causing him to halt his breathing and place a hand on his midsection. He felt a groan escape him as his stomach churned, causing the man to hunch over. 

“Aragorn!” 

Legolas rushed over to the ranger, who tried to recoil in response, but the dizziness left him swaying and soon in the arms of Legolas, who gasped as he drew his hand back from Aragorn’s head. 

“Estel--you’re on fire! Your fever is high, mellon nîn! How long have you been feeling this way?” the elf asked in a panic, his blue eyes shimmering with worry. 

“Couple...days…” he managed to say. He could hear Legolas say something else, but Aragorn could barely hear him as the throbbing of his headache became too much, and the world seemed to spin. He felt himself fall into Legolas’ chest, clinging onto the warmth of the elf as he slipped in and out of consciousness. 

“Gandalf! Lord Elrond!” he heard the elf yell behind him. Aragorn groaned and tried to stand up in protest, but found himself too weak. 

“Don’t...don’t tell...them…” he found himself saying to Legolas. But his voice was too soft and his mind too frail, thus Legolas hadn’t heard him.

The last thing the young man heard was a plethora of voices, and strong arms lifting him up before he felt the world go dark.

***

Aragorn awoke with a start, blinking awake and finding himself in his room, the lights dimmed and a certain warmth to it. It reminded him of his childhood. He winced when the throbbing in his head came back, along with the crippling nausea and burning sensation.

He attempted to sit up in bed, but felt a gentle hand guide him back down to the soft pillows. 

“Rest, ion nîn. I am here.” the gentle voice spoke to him. He immediately recognized it as Elrond’s. He felt Elrond’s cool hands press against his forehead, but the hand did not recoil as Legolas’ did earlier. 

“Oh, Estel. You’re burning up. You must feel awful. How long have you been feeling unwell?” Elrond asked, sighing in sympathy. 

“He mentioned feeling ill for at least a couple of days.” Another voice.  _ Legolas. _ The elf was glancing at him from beside Elrond, his face filled with worry. 

“Gandalf, could you run and notify the rest of the fellowship that the trip is postponed until everyone is healthy once again?” 

“Of course.” _Gandalf. Gandalf was there as well. _The wizard walked out of the room, and Aragorn felt himself fill with shame. The most important journey of a lifetime was being _postponed_ until he got his act together. He was holding up everything because of his weaknesses. Those same weaknesses that kept him from being an elf, perfect like his elven family. 

“No. I am well. I am--” Aragorn tried to lift himself out of bed, but was immediately stopped by Elrond, who overpowered his sickly state and pushed him back under the covers. 

“You are ill, ion, nîn. Your fever is too high. You must rest.” 

Aragorn attempted to protest, but the throbbing of his head became too much, and he curled in on himself, a whimper escaping his throat. 

“Estel, what is the matter?” Elrond asked urgently, grasping his son’s hand lightly, “Where are you hurting, ion nîn?” 

Aragorn groaned and pointed to his head, closing his eyes forcefully, his breathing getting more and more laboured. 

“Ah, I should have guessed. Legolas, pass me that rag and those herbs right there.” Elrond mixed the elvish herbs into a bowl of cool water. Once the water had absorbed the healing properties of each plant, he then dipped the cloth and placed the soaked rag on Aragorn’s forehead. 

Aragorn began to feel instant relief, the heat in his body slowly cooling down in just the slightest as he found his migraine reduced to just a small ache. 

“Those healing herbs should help your headache, as well as the cool water.” Elrond explained, brushing back a few loose strands of hair from his forehead. 

“Hannon le, ada…” he mumbled, eyes already closing once more. He hadn’t called Elrond ‘ada’ in quite awhile, especially not in front of  _ Legolas _ . He was far too out of it to feel embarrassed, however, and soon found himself forgetting about it as sleep came to him once more. 

***

Aragorn awoke with a pang of nausea quickly increasing, and he sat up in bed, an arm wrapped around his midsection. He breathed heavily as saliva started filling his mouth. 

No, he would not throw up. He would not subject himself to such weakness whilst others were in the room with him. 

“Mellon nîn, what is the matter?” Legolas asked urgently. Aragorn felt a sour taste fill his mouth as he dreaded what was coming. He decided not to respond, but instead lay back down slowly and curl in on himself, closing his eyes as he attempted to ride out the sickly feeling. 

“You are looking very pale, ion nîn.” Elrond commented, “Are you nauseous?” 

Aragorn shook his head slowly, but soon after shook his head in truth. He felt like a child again. It was humiliating. 

“Are you going to throw up, Estel?” 

Aragorn found himself breathing heavily again as the nausea made its way to his throat, forming a lump in it. Stifling a gag with his hand, Aragorn felt himself break into a cold sweat as vomit threatened to come up. 

“No-” he choked out, a hand over his mouth. He shook his head quickly and felt a small sob escape him as his breath got heavier and heavier. He closed his eyes tightly.

“Is he alright?” he heard Legolas ask. 

“He has always struggled with throwing up, mellon nîn.” Elrond replied back. He felt like a child being consoled by a parent as said parent explained his weakness to others. He felt more helpless than he had in years as another gag shook him. 

“Estel…” Elrond warned, “If you feel you must do so, then do so, ion nîn.” 

“No-” Aragorn choked out, pointing a shaky finger at Legolas, “-Please...leave..” 

Legolas looked confused for a moment, before Elrond turned to the wood elf. “I believe my stubborn son is ashamed to be this weak in front of his esteemed friend.” 

“Of course.” Legolas nodded in understanding and stood up to leave. “Please, call me if you need anything, Lord Elrond.”

As the door shut, that left just Aragorn and Elrond. Aragorn sobbed loudly as another gag wracked his body, and he quickly clamped a hand over his mouth.

“Estel...” Elrond said gently, pulling back loose strands of his hair, “I know that you feel poorly. I will help you through it, ion nîn, if you just let it happen.” 

Shamefully, Aragorn shook his head and leaned into Elrond’s touch. 

“Estel..” 

Finally, he took his hand off his mouth and shakily grabbed the bucket. With another gag and a sputtering cough, he emptied the contents of his stomach in a rush of liquid, gasping for breath as he did it once more.

“That’s it, Estel. Let it all out. You’re doing so well.” Elrond said gently, rubbing the poor man’s back as his body convulsed. 

The vomit left a terrible aftertaste in his mouth, and Aragorn found himself panting for breath, working his way up into a panic. 

“Ada--” he gasped, coughing into the bucket once again. He could feel tears burning his eyes, threatening to spill as he breathed heavily, the seemingly endless stream of sick finished for now. 

“You are alright, Estel.” Elrond’s voice soothed him. He placed the bucket down and laid back down into his bed as Elrond rubbed his back in slow circles. Shivering, he felt the the blanket being placed back over him by the elf. 

“I am not a child.” Aragorn sniffled. 

“No, but you are still very young, Estel. And I am still your ada.” Elrond replied gently. With a great feeling of shame, Aragorn felt his lower lip quiver and the tears building up in his eyes start to fall.

“Why do you cry, ion nîn?” 

“I...I am sorry, ada.” Aragorn said softly, his ongoing tears now streaming down his cheeks. He sniffled and a new wave of tears started to prick his eyes. 

“For what, Estel?” 

“I am weak. I do not have the strength of an elf. I have held up the mission. I have disappointed you, ada.” he replied softly, not bothering to wipe his eyes. 

Elrond stared quietly at his son, before smiling softly and running a hand through his son’s hair. 

“Ion nîn, you have not disappointed me. I do not expect you to have the strength of an elf because you are indeed human. Sickness is not a weakness, nor is admitting when you need help. The journey can wait, Estel. First we must focus on you getting better. You are not weak, Estel, and I am very proud to call you my son.”

Aragorn sniffled as Elrond wiped away the man’s tears, and felt a smile paint across his face. 

“I feel like such a child.” he laughed breathlessly, leaning back into his bed as Elrond placed another cold compress on his forehead. 

“Rest well, Estel. The sooner you are healed, the sooner you can join embark on your perilous journey.” 

“Yes, ada.” the human replied, already feeling himself drift off to sleep.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this little sickfic of mine! Maybe I'll write more!


End file.
